


Unspoken

by FuchsiaMae



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, brief explicit mention of sex, not smut don't get excited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaMae/pseuds/FuchsiaMae
Summary: Some things are better left unsaid. Even if he says them first.





	

"Caroline, I love you!"

The first time he says it, she doesn't have a second to blink. He grabs her face in his hands, mashes a kiss to her forehead, and then he's gone. As the flush creeps up her throat, he's already halfway down the hall. "C'mon, genius! Hustle!" he calls over his shoulder, and sprints off with her idea on his lips.

She could take a moment to process -- or she could hustle. She chooses the latter.

-

It isn't often, but every once in a while she hears the words again. He says it for a welcome cup of coffee, especially if it comes before he calls -- she's learned to tell when he needs it. He says it for a sorely-needed foot-rub at the end of a long day. He says it most when she spares him work.

"Did you sign all these for me? Caroline, I love you."

"You chased off those goons from Black Mesa? Caroline, I love you."

"Can't believe I never thought of this! Caroline, I love you."

"No dinner with whatshisname tonight? Caroline, I love you. How 'bout we use that reservation anyway, just the two of us?"

She takes the praise as it comes, for her hands or her brain or her coffee, and doesn't let it make her stupid. At dinner, they discuss only business.

-

Sometimes he says it while balls-deep inside her, his strong hands grappling her hipbones, his sweat running down her back. It escapes between grunts and groans.

"God damn you are amazing -- fuck -- _fuck_ , Caroline, I love you -- "

She can't answer even if she wanted to, not while he knocks the wind out of her with each thrust. Instead she gives herself over to the pleasure-pain as he fucks her hard enough to bruise.

He never says it before, when his mouth is busy with kisses. Never after, once the blood returns to his brain. The words only slip when he loses his mind in the pleasure of her body. By the time he catches his breath, they're long gone.

Sometimes, once post-coital fatigue knocks him out like a drug, she breathes it back in a whisper on his skin.

-

"Caroline, I love you," he says in pure relief, and hugs her tight on the steps of Capitol Hill. The news crews have cleared off in disappointment -- thanks to her careful perjuries, there will be no arresting him today. But business is about to change.

-

It gets rarer as the years go by, and their successes dwindle. He says it when she's able to squeeze another penny from the budget, or when the inspectors give them a very near miss. Curses from both sides are more common now than praise.

On long nights when the stress catches up with him, it rides the whiskey on his breath. Slumped at his desk, he looks up when she enters, fear and pain naked on his face.

"Caroline."

But she shushes him gently as she guides him to standing. Addled with booze and exhaustion, he clings to her like a child as she walks him to the sofa, which has been his bed as often lately as the real thing. "Caroline, Caroline..."

She lays him down, his head in her lap, and strokes his tousled hair. He finds her hand and squeezes it like it means his life. "I love you."

The words belong to Jim Beam, or Johnnie Walker, or whoever wrote the label on tonight's drinking buddy. Her only answer is to hold him as he falls asleep.

-

The end could come any day now. They all know it, him most of all. Such a shock to learn Cave Johnson was mere mortal.

The man lies now in his hospital bed, small and frail, not ready -- never ready -- for sleep. His fragile hand feels cool in hers. She looks into his eyes, sunken deep in hollow sockets, and thirty years of words look back. "Caroline..."

The ghost of a bittersweet smile flits across her lips. She leans in to press a kiss to his forehead, and turns out the light. 


End file.
